


I Will Always Buy You Snacks

by therapychicken



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: CW: discussions of revenge porn, David Rose is a Good Person, David can't cook, David's Past, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I am not a lawyer, Inner Strength, Kraft Dinner, M/M, Married Life, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Post-Canon, True Love, acts of service as Patrick's love language, and how he doesn't define himself by it, do not use this fic for legal advice, making things better, obscene quantities of junk food, the return of the giant cookie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26623975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therapychicken/pseuds/therapychicken
Summary: "It was about noon on a pretty typical Saturday when Patrick’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Stevie: check this out, with a Twitter link attached. Patrick opened it curiously, only to feel his stomach turn as he saw the post open up in his app.A Creep Gets Comeuppance!!! “Photographer”/Scumbag Sebastien Raine FINALLY Arrested On Internet Revenge Porn Charges"Sebastien Raine has been arrested- Patrick and David have some feelings.(Yes, it's fluffy at the end, I promise.)
Relationships: (past), Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Sebastien Raine/David Rose
Comments: 26
Kudos: 208
Collections: Rose Apothecary Flufftober 2020





	I Will Always Buy You Snacks

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Resilience

It was about noon on a pretty typical Saturday when Patrick’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Stevie: _check this out_ , with a Twitter link attached. Patrick opened it curiously, only to feel his stomach turn as he saw the post open up in his app. 

_A Creep Gets Comeuppance!!! “Photographer”/Scumbag Sebastien Raine FINALLY Arrested On Internet Revenge Porn Charges_

The post was by some gossip type account, but Patrick’s eyebrows went up when he saw that the link went to a New York City mainstream news site rather than a blog or tabloid. He clicked on it apprehensively. 

_Raine, 41, has been known for years for taking illicit photos under false pretenses and then publicizing them online… numerous subjects have reported manipulative behavior… though most of his (known) victims were in New York, revenge porn laws here did not criminalize his actions, so his arrest occurred in Chicago after incidents there._

David had explained this to Patrick once when Patrick had flailed around helplessly wondering how Sebastien could get away with everything he did- for ages New York hadn’t had an internet revenge porn law at all, but even the one it had now only helped if the victim could prove that the perpetrator was trying to harm them. Otherwise, Sebastien could claim that the photo was just posted for artistic reasons and not to harm David at all, and plus since it was meant as art and David was the model there wasn't a reasonable expectation of privacy…

Patrick had looked at David as he’d reeled all this off and felt like he was being torn up from the inside. David had seemed… he couldn’t really put it into words, but resigned, maybe? The law might have said what it said, but Patrick knew that Sebastien’s photos had been taken while David was drugged and had no idea that Sebastien meant to release them, that they’d caused David searing emotional distress and harm, and that Sebastien had known they would. Even if David couldn’t possibly have proven it. The photos had been posted on Sebastien’s website, after all, with his portfolio- it was just a coincidence that he’d then shared the link on his social media while tagging all of David’s work contacts, friends, and then-current (and in the end very temporary) romantic partner. 

Still internally seething, Patrick took another glance at the article. Apparently, Illinois didn’t require that the victim prove intentional harm, just the expectation of privacy, and while Sebastien was claiming (as David had predicted) that the victims suing were his models, they were asserting otherwise. The article ended with the line that Patrick had been dreading- _While these are merely Raine’s first victims to take the first step toward bringing him to justice, other notable victims include David Rose, former gallerist and socialite who disappeared from New York when his family’s wealth was embezzled by their financial manager...._ There were no photos, thank fuck, but the line had a hyperlink, which Patrick clicked reluctantly, just to see what he was dealing with. It was a brief article about the downfall of Rose Video, and it didn’t include the name of the town where the Roses had ended up. That was a blessing, at least. The line, to Patrick’s shock, then also mentioned one or two other celebrities who he’d actually heard of, a Broadway actor and a TV personality, who had also been victims.

Patrick hoped that they had people supporting them now. Which, of course, brought him back to David, and what Patrick should be doing to support his husband. He went back to his messaging app and texted Stevie, _shit, does David know?_

 _No idea,_ she texted back, _i only k abt this bc im in ny and im getting local notifications. ur his husband, i figured ud have a google alert out or something._

But Patrick didn’t have a Google alert, though now that Stevie mentioned it he absolutely should have had one. It’s just that David had always been insistent that his past was his past, that Patrick didn’t have to dwell on it or treat David differently or look out for him. Patrick had always done his best to honor David’s wishes- not asking too many questions, not Googling him (too much), waiting for David to tell him what he wanted to tell him (and overall that had ended up being quite a lot) and then letting it go afterward.

Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. Maybe he should have been more proactive. Because David had to know about this now, it was his day off and he was probably all over social media, and if not for Stevie happening to be in New York now Patrick would never have known. 

Patrick’s fingers were itching to text Stevie, _what should I do_ , but held himself back. This was his husband- this was Patrick’s _job_. This was why Patrick had slid those rings on David’s fingers and made a promise to him in front of God, the population of Schitt’s Creek, and Moira Rose in a flamboyant hat. 

Would it be overreaching to do something for David? Just this once? He didn’t have to outright make the connection- he could just tell David he was in the mood to treat him because he loved him, which had the benefit of being basically always true. He didn’t have to paint it as Patrick _pitying_ him. He didn’t. He just- 

He felt like he would burst, is what he felt. Like he would burst from the thoughts of Sebastien Raine and David’s violation and the dozens of people whose lives had been ruined, if he couldn’t give David some chocolates or something. Another big cookie, or some of that expensive salted caramel gelato. 

And so, after leaving the store in the hands of their new after-school employee at 4:00, he texted David that he’d be an hour or two late and drove into Elmdale, where he bought all those things alongside two bags of artisanal popcorn (bacon-cheddar and kettle), a handle of vodka, and four bags of gummy bears. He drove home a bit apprehensively, a few more emotions than he was comfortable with stewing in his stomach; at the top he noted nervousness at David’s reaction, though he comforted himself in the knowledge that he’d never seen David get angry in the face of gummy bears. 

He unlocked the front door, noting with surprise that the entryway was dark, with only a dim light shining from the direction of the kitchen. Grunting as he accidentally stepped on his baseball glove (something that David would probably chew him out for leaving on the floor later), he made his way, grocery bags in hand, toward the kitchen as he noticed something that smelled really delicious wafting his way. 

It smelled like- 

He gasped as he made his way into the kitchen to see the counters covered in lit tea lights and pillar candles, the lights off, a bottle of wine and two bowls of Kraft Dinner on the table, and David wryly smiling up at him from one of the seats. 

“Excellent, you brought dessert,” he said. “Ooh, gelato, good choice. Cheesecake? Or salted caramel?”

“Caramel,” Patrick said, grunting as he set the bags on the floor and unloaded the pint of gelato into the freezer for later. “What’s all this?”

David shrugged, mock-casually. “Oh, _this_ \- just thought we could have a nice dinner together, and luckily you like the only food I’m capable of cooking on my own, so.”

“Who doesn’t love Kraft Dinner, babe,” Patrick replied, bending down to peck a quick kiss on David’s lips, buying into the whole ordinary-evening charade, if that was what David needed. But when their lips actually touched, Patrick just couldn't do it. He deepened the kiss, desperately, his hands clasping together behind David’s head like he needed to keep him as close as possible- David kissed back just as eagerly, one hand stroking Patrick’s back, another in his hair. 

When Patrick finally wrenched himself away from David, David’s eyes were bright, and he said, “oh, honey.” Patrick wondered why for a second until he realized that there were hot tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and one had actually already trickled down his cheek. He closed his eyes, mortified. This was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do. He wasn’t supposed to even be comforting _David_ , let alone having David comfort _him._ This wasn’t about him at all. Why was he making it about him?

“How did you know? Did Alexis text you too?” David’s voice was soft, non-judgmental. Patrick couldn’t quite look him in the eye.

“No, Stevie. She saw it on Twitter.”

David nodded from the corner of Patrick’s line of sight. “Oh.” He sighed. “She really didn’t have to.”

“I’m sorry, David,” Patrick said nervously. “I know you want to keep these things in the past-”

“No- no, I’m so happy you did this, Patrick, you have no idea.” Finally Patrick looked directly at David, and could see the light shining in David’s eyes, the truth in his words beaming out. 

“Oh, well- well that’s good.” 

He smiled at David, relief in his eyes, and David grinned back as he picked up his fork and speared some pasta onto it. “Mm, been looking forward to some orangey goodness all day,” he said, and Patrick laughed and shoveled a forkful into his own mouth.The taste felt like home, like his mom making this for him after a long day of middle school and Little League; it was good to be home and eating Kraft Dinner again. 

“Whah duhduh doo dis?” Patrick asked before he’d quite swallowed. David wrinkled his nose, and Patrick grimaced in apology as he chewed the last bit left in his mouth. “I meant, why did you do this?”

“What, I’m not allowed to cook dinner for my dashing husband who buys me the good popcorn and- vodka, mm- and apparently some other goodies as well when he wants to look out for me? I’m not allowed to make something special for him?” David looks at him challengingly, with a small smile. 

Patrick smiles back. “I guess I’ve gotten predictable,” he said, part jokingly, and David just melted.

“That’s what I love about you,” he whispered. He dropped his fork and grabbed at Patrick’s free hand, running his rings over Patrick’s fingers. 

And fuck, the tears were coming back. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, this isn’t about me,” Patrick said, trying not to seem too much like he was choking on the lump in his throat. “I know you haven’t wanted me to make a big deal about this kind of thing, but-”

“But you care, I know.” David’s eyes were blazing, and he squeezed Patrick’s hand. “My husband cares about me, enough to read through that article like ten times, probably, and buy like $50 worth of snacks and a handle of vodka, and cry because he feels and he understands. And that’s the husband that I lit candles and made mac and cheese for. It’s not much, I know, but…”

“It’s exactly right, and more than enough,” Patrick said back, a bit more steadily. “Thank you- thank you for letting me buy you snacks.” 

“Not a hardship, I assure you,” David responded easily, and squeezed Patrick’s hand. “Thank you for wanting to buy me snacks.”

“I always will.” 

They eat a few more bites of pasta, forks clinking in their bowls. The cheesy taste coating his mouth grounded Patrick. When he thought they'd both settled a bit, he looked up and said, “are you okay?” 

He held his breath as David chewed. “Here, with you? Always,” David said quietly. “I’m a bit- well, I'm sad, I guess, that I’m remembering it, that I’m thinking about all the other people he did this to, that it took this long for him to receive any form of justice. That I spent so long not being able to do anything about it.”

“You protected your mom from him, though. That’s pretty amazing.”

“Yes, well.” David pondered that for a second, and grinned. “It was amazing, wasn’t it.” He took another bite and chewed. “So I’m sad, but also I’m- I’m just really happy. Because I have all of this. I have ice cream and gummy bears to drown my sorrows in, and vodka to wash them down with. I have a full life and a family and love and happiness and a cute little rom com cottage and all the things that the David in those photographs that Sebastien took couldn’t even have dreamed about.”

David leaned closer to Patrick, dropping his fork, and ran a long, tapered finger over Patrick’s cheek, in the path of the tear that had trickled down. “I have a husband who cried for me,” he whispered. “I couldn’t have imagined anything like that then, and I can’t imagine anything better now.” 

He stroked his finger down that streak again, and put the fingertip to his lips and kissed it. Patrick blinked more tears from his eyes and hastily wiped them away. “Well,” Patrick said hoarsely, “well, you’ll always have it, if you want it.”

"I know," David said back, smile in the corner of his mouth, "that's what makes me so lucky." 

Patrick knew, as he scraped the last few noodles from the bottom of his bowl, that it wasn't luck, it was strength, it was David deserving every last scrap of happiness he could get, every boatload that Patrick would be bringing him.

It was Patrick who was the lucky one, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the wonderful folks at Rose Apothecary for giving me the opportunity to join the Flufftober series! 
> 
> According to my Canadian friends, Canadians straight up call Kraft mac and cheese Kraft Dinner, which is weird, but fine.
> 
> On a more serious note- I am NOT a lawyer. All I am is a New York resident, which is how I got the idea for the fic, after doing some reading on our revenge porn laws and their serious limitations. Unfortunately, most US states seem to have revenge porn laws which go by intent (of the perpetrator), not consent (of the victim)- Illinois is one of the handful that do not. (So far as I can tell, neither does Canadian federal law.) That said, please do not take ANY legal advice from this story, at all. If you find yourself in a situation like that described in this fic, you first of all have my deepest sympathies and darkest anger on your behalf, but please please reach out to the authorities, to a lawyer in your jurisdiction, or to an organization that specializes in this kind of thing. One that I saw in my reading was the Cyber Civil Rights Initiative.


End file.
